His Story
by hollowcaverns
Summary: When Crutchie has nightmares of the refuge, his sister, Dollface, encourages him to open up about his experiences there. Crutchie recounts his story and reveals the horrors of the refuge during his short stay there during the strike. (same universe as "We Will Fight For You")
1. Chapter 1

It had been a long day. The scorching sun and bad headlines brought the newsies back early that day, their faces red from the sun and their clothes drenched in sweat. The morning should have been a sign that the day would not go well. Another fight with the Delanceys had left Crutchie with a black eye and Dollface being held back by Jack. The rest of the day she couldn't get the image of them laughing and walking away out of her head. It had been a bad day for everyone, so they were relieved to go to bed and put the day to an end. Dollface had only been asleep for an hour or so when Racetrack shook her awake.

"Doll, wake up," he said, a panicked look on his face. "It's Crutchie." Those two words woke Dollface up like a bucket of cold water. She jumped down off her bed and saw everyone standing to the side of Crutchie's bed, Jack sitting next to him trying to wake him up. Crutchie was thrashing around in his sleep, mumbling incoherently and a terrified look on his face. Jack said nothing but merely got out of the way when he saw Dollface awake. She took Jack's place sitting next to Crutchie.

"Crutchie, wake up!" she shouted, shaking his shoulder. It did nothing as he ventured deeper into his nightmare. After shaking him another few seconds, she finally just slapped him, hard, across the face. He bolted upright, breathing heavily and looking around the room in a panic. Dollface grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. His eyes were wide in fear and his face covered in sweat.

"Crutch, it's me," she said quietly. "You's alright. You's here in the boardin house. It was a dream. Just a bad, bad dream." He looked around at everyone standing by them and slowly to the rest of the room. He began to calm down, seeing Dollface was telling the truth.

"But I wasn't... I couldn't... I don't know..." he stuttered, trying to form a sentence.

"Calm down ok," Dollface said soothingly. She began slowly combing her fingers through his hair. "You're safe. We's all right here. Kloppman's downstairs. You want me to get him?" Crutchie shook his head, still catching his breath. Dollface took the glass of water that Jack handed her and gave it to Crutchie.

"Drink a few sips," she told him. His shaky hand lifted the glass to his mouth as he swallowed two large gulps. Dollface took the glass from him and set it on the dresser. He still looked very nervous.

"What happened?" she asked. "Wanna talk about it?" He quickly shook his head.

"No, I'm fine," he said quietly, his eyes flicking up quickly to the boys that surrounded them. Dollface knew he wasn't going to say anything with everyone watching and gave Jack a look.

"Alright fellas let's get back to bed," Jack said, getting the idea. "Crutchie's good. We's all tired now let's just go back to sleep alright." Dollface looked carefully at Crutchie as he fixed his stare to a spot on his blanket.

"Crutchie, please tell me," Dollface said, the noise of everyone moving giving them a little more privacy. "It's just me here. I won't tell anyone."

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said again, shaking his head.

"I ain't neva seen you like that before, Crutch," Dollface said, as he reached for his glass of water. "It was scary. There's obviously something on your mind, something bad. I don't know what I can do to make it betta but talking would help a lot." Crutchie said nothing but merely took a small sip of water.

"Ok well how about this," she said, thinking of something. "I'll just ask you questions and you can just say yes or no." He shrugged so Dollface move to lie down next to him.

"Was it anything to do with us? One of the newsies?" she asked, watching his reaction. He shook his head.

"Ok what about our scum of a fatha?" Again, he shook his head.

"Was it about me?" Another no.

"Was it about the Delanceys?" He hesitated a moment before shaking his head. Dollface noticed as his hands began shaking slightly. She knew what it was.

"Was it the refuge, Crutch?" He didn't move but after a few moments, nodded his head, a slight blushing creeping upon his cheeks. Crutchie had not mentioned the refuge since the strike. Only once had he ever said anything about it and it was only that he was glad Governor Roosevelt closed it. He refused to answer any questions about his time there during the strike, a dark look appearing on his face anytime someone brought it up. So they stopped talking about it. It had been months since the strike and Crutchie was just as cheerful as ever. But now it was very clear the weight of his experience in the refuge sat too heavily upon his shoulders.

"Crutchie, it's ok to have a nightmare about the refuge," Dollface said, sitting up to face him. "It was a horrible, horrible place which is why they shut it down. You're safe here, you know that. But don't you think it would help to talk some about what happened there?"

"Nightmares," he said, looking into his glass of water.

"What?" Dollface asked, confused.

"You said 'a nightmare.' I've had these before," he explained. "Lots. Maybe one or two a week since I came back. No one ever noticed before though so I would just wake up, calm down, and go back to sleep. I didn't mean to make a fuss."

"You's been havin one or two nightmares a week?" Dollface repeated.

"I had 'em nearly every night for the first week or so after the strike," he said. "I just had a worse one tonight."

"Crutchie, I'm your sista," she said, almost pleadingly. "Talk to me about this. I don't wanna eva see you like that again. And the nightmares is only gonna get worse."

Crutchie said nothing but looked around at the room. It had been quiet for about a minute now as everyone was settled back in their beds. Suddenly he sat up, setting his water down and getting out of bed.

"Let's go to the roof," he said, grabbing his crutch. "It's too quiet here." Dollface quickly stood up, slipping on her boots, and followed Crutchie out of the room. They turned to the left, walking past the closet that held extra blankets, pillows, towels, and soap, and opened the door to the roof. Kloppman didn't like them going up there but had long ago given up keeping the door locked. Anytime he was sure it was locked and secure, they just found another way to pick the lock. But since Kloppman no longer forbid them from going on the roof, the rush of sneaking up in the middle of the night had disappeared. Only on nice nights would they go up to get some fresh air while playing games.

Dollface propped the door open so they wouldn't get locked out and turned back to Crutchie. He had his back to her and was looking out over the edge of the building leaning on the small wall. She walked over and stood next to him, looking out too. There wasn't anything specific he was looking at, Dollface knew that. They both stood there for a few minutes in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the city in the middle of the night. Dollface felt a strange sort of comfort whenever there was a loud sound, as if they were being reminded they weren't the only ones still awake.

"You ready to talk?" Dollface finally asked, turning to Crutchie. He took one last glance at the city before him and faced her.

"Yeah," he said, exhaling deeply. "I'll tell you what happened at the refuge."


	2. Chapter 2

It was mass chaos. Nothing was going as planned, Crutchie could see that right away. They were clearly outnumbered and were on their way to a losing fight, despite their strong anger and determination. Crutchie ducked out of the way of a scabber running towards him and tripped him with his crutch. He then looked around for Jack. Jack was taking in the scene around them, watching as a policeman ignored Racetrack and slapped him across the face. Crutchie didn't have to wait to hear it to know what was going to happen.

"Run!" Jack shouted, admitting defeat and bolting for the gates himself. But Crutchie was already halfway there. He stopped momentarily to make sure his friends were running out of the gates too. He watched as Racetrack, Bumlets, Mush, and Specs went sprinting past him. Crutchie felt relief as he watched some of the last boys get out. They were going to get out of this. Then his stomach dropped, realizing there was one person he hadn't seen run to safety. Then he heard the scream and looked up.

It took him one second to take in the scene before him. All he saw was Oscar Delancey grabbing, groping, and carrying Dollface away, as she screamed for help. His blood boiled and a flash of anger surged through him. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he made his way back inside the circulation center. He didn't know how he got over to them. He didn't even realize he had punched Oscar in the face or that Dollface had gotten away. He only felt a tugging on his arm that brought him back to reality.

"Let's go!" Dollface was shouting at him, pulling him towards the gate. Maybe it was because his only concern had been getting Dollface to safety. Maybe it was because everyone had escaped. But for whatever reason, Crutchie didn't notice as Morris pushed Dollface away from him and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

The pure surprise of the punch was what did it. Crutchie's heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he slammed to the ground, not knowing exactly what had happened. Then he looked up and saw the Delanceys advancing menacingly toward him. Then through Morris's legs, Crutchie saw Jack pulling Dollface away, pulling her towards the gate and towards safety. Then Morris kicked him in the side, blinding him with pain.

"Yeah, ya like that?" Oscar taunted. He bent down and grabbed Crutchie's shirt, pulling him up to his face. "Ya ruined my chances with Dollface, ya lousy crip." He shoved him back to the pavement, smashing his head hard. Crutchie's vision went blurry for a moment. Then his blood went cold when he heard that voice.

"Thank you boys. I'll take it from here," Snyder said, tossing the Delanceys a coin. They hungrily grabbed at it and walked off, laughing. When Crutchie was finally able to see again, there was no sight of Dollface. Then Synder loomed over him, his crutch in one hand and a dark smirk on his face.

"You little brats deserve this," he snarled, raising the crutch above his head.

"_At least Dollface ain't here to hear me scream,_" was the last thought that entered Crutchie's mind as Snyder brought the crutch down on his stomach. Then his stomach again. Then his bad leg. Crutchie cried out louder with each hit, finally choking back tears as it felt like his leg had been ripped off his body. He heard the clatter of his crutch on the pavement and felt Snyder roughly grab him.

"Off to the refuge for you, little man," he spit out, slapping handcuffs on his wrists. "Take him boys." He snapped at Oscar, who gladly walked over and grabbed Crutchie's bad leg. He twisted his leg and flipped him over to his stomach, making Crutchie scream again. He looked around desperately for a way out of this as Oscar dragged him away.

"Jack! JACK!" he screamed out, knowing Jack would be the one to come through. Then Dollface appeared, followed by Jack, from behind a turned over cart. She started running to Crutchie, who reached out his hands, wishing she would reach them in time. But Jack grabbed her and held her back.

"CRUTCHIE!" she screamed, tears running down her face. Jack had to pick her up and carry her away screaming. Crutchie was pulled behind the circulation office and out of eyesight but he heard her screaming for him. "NO! CRUTCHIE!"

"I'll be ok-" Crutchie started to scream to her, hoping she would hear, but was cut off as Morris covered his mouth with his dirty hand.

"Don't worry, Crutch," he said, smiling a disgusting smile. "We'll be sure to take real good care of her for ya." Despite the immense pain he was in, Crutchie found it in him to kick Morris in the groin with his good leg. Morris's hand fell away as he collapsed over in pain.

"And we was gonna be nice to ya," Oscar said, punching Crutchie in the face. "Looks like you can say goodbye to that." He kicked him in the stomach and chest several times before a final kick to the head sent Crutchie into a world of darkness.

* * *

Crutchie came plummeting back into reality all at once. He coughed and choked on the cold water that had just been thrown at him and sat up, wiping the water from his eyes. Immediately, the pain in his body came back. Every movement sent a stabbing pain through his ribcage. His pounding head felt like it would explode. His leg throbbed every time he breathed. He placed a hand to his head to try and steady himself but felt something wet and sticky that was not from the water. He drew his hand away to see it covered in blood. He felt something besides the water trickle slowly down his face.

"Well, well, well," Snyder mocked. "Look who's awake! You really scared us there boy. Thought the Delanceys might have killed you, especially with that nasty gash on your head. You'll have to thank Oscar's boot for that one." Crutchie said nothing but merely focused on sitting up against the wall. He gritted his teeth as his whole body shook with pain just from such a small movement. He looked around the room he was in. It was empty, except for Snyder and the empty bucket he had just used to toss water onto Crutchie. There was one door and one window, both barred and locked tight. There was only the light of two lit candles that were fixed to the wall. The room was cold, dark, and dank. It was everything Crutchie imagined the refuge would look like.

"Ok, kid, let's play a little game," Snyder said, crossing his arms and pacing in front of him. "I ask you a question and you answer. You answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about. You lie to me, boy, and I will _give_ you something to worry about. Sound good?" Crutchie glared up at the man in front of him. He was certain most of the questions would be about the strike and swore he wouldn't give anything or anyone away.

"The first question is easy. What's your name?" he asked, stopping in front of him.

"Crutchie," he mumbled. His face stung as Snyder slapped him hard across the face.

"I know that ain't your _real_ name boy," he said, his voice gruff. "So let's try again. What is your name?"

"Crutchie," he repeated defiantly, much louder than before. This earned him a punch this time.

"Look, Boyer, we can play this game all day long," Snyder said. "I know what your name is. You know what your name is but it'll be easier if you just say it. So one last time. What is your name?"

"Andrew," Crutchie said, spitting out some blood, his jaw throbbing. Snyder punched him where the gash on his forehead was, making him release an involuntary cry of pain.

"Boyer. Andrew Boyer," Crutchie said quickly, his voice cracking slightly. Snyder smiled and stepped back, cracking his knuckles.

"Alright next question," he said. "What are your next plans with the strike?" This was it. No matter what happened, Crutchie knew he was never going to rat out the newsies, not even the ones they had recruited that morning. They would be safe.

"I don't know," Crutchie said, unconvincingly. Unsurprisingly, Snyder didn't buy it. As Crutchie was kicked in the side, he was beginning to realize Snyder wouldn't believe anything he said, even if it was the truth. He just wanted to catch Jack and shut down the strike.

"We don't got any otha plans, we was just-" Crutchie started to say but was kicked again. He fell over, back on the ground, and clutched his throbbing side. "If you let me finish, you'd hear me say we take it day by day. We don't know what we's doin."

"Of course you don't know what you're doing," Snyder scoffed. "You're children. But there has to be one person who's smart enough to put this together. You may only be on day two of the strike but I know there was someone who you listened to. Now tell me, who is your leader?"

"We don't gotta a leada," Crutchie said. "We's a team. Just a buncha kids put togetha." But Snyder didn't believe him. He picked him up by grabbing Crutchie's shirt and kneed him in the groin. Crutchie yelled and felt like he could throw up from the pain.

"I know for a fact you have a leader," he said roughly, slamming Crutchie up against the wall. Snyder was the only thing holding him up. His head was spinning and his bad leg could barely hold any weight. Crutchie felt like he would collapse. "I have a source that tells me Jack Kelly is your leader. Makes sense too, don't it? But hey, what am I telling you this for? You already know who the source is, don't ya?" Crutchie's eyes grew wide with realization. He had been talking to Dollface the night before when Jack addressed the newsies questions and hadn't heard what he said. Snyder had gotten it out of her when she was briefly caught. That's the only way Snyder could know it was Jack.

"Speaking of which, where is she?" he asked, his eyes growing dark with eagerness. This was what he wanted to know. All the stuff about Jack and the strike was just to weaken him. Snyder was ready to get his hands on both siblings. But Crutchie merely laughed in his face.

"You think I'm gonna rat out on my boys, on my newsies," he said defiantly. "You think I'm gonna tell you where to go, when to do it, and who to arrest. If you think I'm gonna tell you anything about this strike, then you's nuts. But if you think I'm gonna give you _any_ information on my sista, then you's flat out crazy." Snyder's face grew red with anger, his nostrils flaring, and he violently threw Crutchie to the ground. It felt as if his whole body would break in two. But he struggled to sit up, not wanting to give Snyder the satisfaction of knocking him down.

"You're a brat, you know that?" Snyder said ferociously, kicking him in the chest and pushing him back down. "You run away from your home with your kid sister-"

"We's twins, she ain't my kid anything," Crutchie interrupted, earning him a kick to the stomach. Crutchie instinctively rolled to his side to protect his stomach and chest.

"And you run away to the first place you find; the boarding house," Snyder continued. "The boarding house. Full of trouble making kids who lie and steal and cheat just to make a quarter a day. That house produces nothing but a bunch of lowlifes who are a waste of space. Just like you." Snyder kicked him in the back, making his release a small cry.

"You couldn't just put up with your father, who cared for you and fed you and put a roof over your head," Snyder said, stepping on either side of Crutchie and leaning down into his face. "So instead you ran away like the ungrateful little brats all you newsies are."

"We ran away so we wouldn't die," Crutchie said, leaning towards Snyder. "I made us leave so Dollface wouldn't get hurt no more. I did what I had to do to protect my sista. And I ain't eva thought twice about it."

"Which brings us back to the _other_ Boyer," Snyder said, shoving Crutchie back to the ground. "Essie, wasn't it? Awful name, really."

"It was our motha's," Crutchie said angrily, through his teeth. Snyder ignored this.

"You tell me where she is and you two will be reunited again," Snyder said. "You tell me where she is and I can arrange for you to share a cell with her, a very special privilege here. Your very own cell. And you'd get to be with your sister again."

"I'd rather rot here for all eternity if it meant she was free outside," Crutchie said proudly. Snyder brought his fist down on Crutchie's bad leg, just below his knee. Crutchie was blinded by the pain. He screamed so loud his throat went raw as Snyder pushed down hard on the spot. Tears ran from his shut eyes and down his face as the pain grew more intense until finally he thought he would pass out. Then Snyder let go and kicked his leg.

"I would say that you do not want to become my enemy," Snyder said, kicking Crutchie's chest again, "But it's too late for that kid." Crutchie was nearly reduced to a screaming, crying child as he was kicked, punched, and slapped repeatedly. But still he would not tell Snyder anything. Not about the strike. Not about Jack. And most importantly, not about Dollface.

Finally, Crutchie knew it was over when the door opened and Snyder left, spitting at Crutchie who had been reduced to a shaking ball on the floor. Blood streamed from the gash in his head and from a cut on his lip. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't cry out from pain. The pain from his leg was unbearable. He felt paralyzed from the pain of it.

Two men walked in and picked him up from the ground. They were going to make him walk but when it became clear Crutchie was barely able to sit up, they simply dragged him between the two of them. Crutchie's head lolled to one side as he struggled to maintain consciousness. His leg throbbed painfully as it dragged useless behind him. He only hoped that he was being taken somewhere where he could rest, if only for a few hours. He was dragged down a long hallway, up three flights of stairs, and then down another hallway before finally coming to a stop.

"Enjoy your stay kid," one of the men mocked, unlocking the door. Crutchie was thrown inside and to the floor as a group of boys quickly moved out of the way. Crutchie rolled over to see the two men laughing at him in the doorway. Then Snyder appeared next to them, holding his crutch.

"Thought you might be needing this," Snyder said, throwing it at Crutchie and laughing when he cried out in pain. "Rest up, boy. There's plenty more where that came from." The door was slammed shut and locked, the laughter of the men fading as they walked further down the hallway and finally disappearing altogether.

* * *

**as you can see, this story's going to be kinda dark and violent, so that's why it's rated M. also a good drinking game for this story would be to take a shot every time someone gets hit the groin. just saying.**


	3. Chapter 3

Crutchie forced himself to move and sit up, every inch of his body protesting. He ignored the looks of the boys that had surrounded him and rolled over to his hands and knees, trying his best not to put any weight on his bad leg. He stretched out his arm to get his crutch but saw as someone picked it up before him. It was a boy who looked to be Crutchie's age. He had dark, shaggy hair and dirt covered his face. He, like the rest of the boys in the room, looked very thin and frail. But he merely smiled at Crutchie, his brown eyes shining, and reached out a hand. Crutchie reluctantly let the boy help him up.

"Thanks," he muttered, his throat sore from screaming. He took his crutch from the boy and began to walk away from the group but was stopped.

"Hey, you should sit down," the boy said. "Normally we make new kids sleep on the floor or share beds but you can use mine. I can do without it for the night." Crutchie opened his mouth to protest, not wanting to appear weak on his first day in a room full of strangers, but the boy once again stopped him.

"Kid, it's ok," he said. "I seen Snyda bust up lots of kids before but nothing like what he done to you. It's a miracle you's standing." The boy was very right. The energy he used to stand up and remain standing was quickly fading and he was moments away from collapsing. So he let the boy help him walk to his bed and sat down, feeling guilty for taking something that the boy had probably spent a long time trying to acquire.

"Hey kid, I really don't-" Crutchie began saying but the boy once again cut him off.

"Call me, Rover," he said, picking up a dirty sheet off the floor. He ripped off a small piece and handed it to Crutchie. "Use that to clean up that cut on your head, it's real nasty lookin."

"I'm fine, it ain't the first time I've been beat up," Crutchie protested, giving the cloth back to the boy. "I just need to sit for a few minutes and then I'll be fine."

"Kid, you ain't fine," Rover said, sitting down next to Crutchie. He began dabbing at the gash on Crutchie's head, making him wince. "I'm serious when I say this is the worst I've eva seen anyone. And I've been here a long time. Whatever Snyda did to you, he musta hated your guts. What'd you do? Why you here?"

"He's been trying to catch me and my sista for years," Crutchie explained. "We ran away from our pop when we was little and then became newsies to make some money."

"Oh so you's a runaway turned newsie," Rover said, nodding his head. "Hope he didn't get ya sista though, man that'd be awful. Say I heard somethin about a strike with the newsies. You know anything about it?"

"I helped start it," Crutchie said. "That's the otha reason why I'm here. We got caught up causin trouble at a circulation center." The boy stopped wiping the cut and looked at Crutchie in surprise, a large smile on his face.

"That was _you_!" he said in amazement. "Yeah we heard Snyda complainin earlier bout the newsie strike and that he was going down there with some police. Said it was a real mess. We was all rootin for you guys! Don't tell me you got stopped."

"No, just me," Crutchie said, slightly embarrassed. "Hopefully they'll keep goin without me. We even convinced a few otha kids to join us. Problem is if we want any otha boroughs in on it, Brooklyn hasta join first. No one's doin anything without Brooklyn but they wasn't exactly too excited to do anything." Crutchie's head began throbbing again. He was struggling to remain sitting upright. Rover must have seen this as he stood up from the bed.

"Get some rest," he said. "You must be exhausted. You was with Snyda for hours, it's nearly dark. We's already all been given our water and bread so you'll have to wait til breakfast. I'll tell the otha kids to leave you be, sometimes the little kids is annoying." Crutchie collapsed onto the bed, longing for sleep to bring relief to his aching body.

"I'm Crutchie, by the way," he said as Rover walked away. He turned around and smiled down at him.

"Thanks for fightin for us kids, Crutchie," he said, walking away and letting Crutchie drift into an uneasy sleep.

His dreams did nothing to comfort him. It was a messy blur of disturbing images. First he was being dragged away, screaming out for Jack. Then being kicked in the head by Oscar. The image of Snyder standing over him, the crutch raised above his head, haunted him. Then he was forced to watch as Oscar hauled Dollface away. He tried to run after her but Snyder kept kicking his bad leg. Then slowly he felt himself wake up. The Delanceys and Snyder slowly faded as he came out of his nightmares. He felt gentle fingers brushing his hair from his forehead. It could only be one person.

He opened his sleepy eyes to see Dollface sitting next to him, looking a little worse for the wear. He looked confusedly up at her wondering how she got there and why she had come. For a sick moment he feared that she too had been caught but then realized that Snyder would have never let her see him. He knew then that their time together would be brief until she had to go. So instead of asking her questions, he just smiled up at her.

"Hiya Dollface," he said, his voice tired and rough. She returned a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Hiya Crutchie," she said. "How ya feelin?"

"Like a bunch of daisies," he said, answering her dumb question. They both laughed at their own stupidity but pain racked Crutchie's abdomen and he stopped. "Sorry, hurts to laugh." Dollface frowned, concern growing on her face.

"Look, I'm gonna get you outta here," she said determined. "You's gonna come wit me and we's gonna walk out those gates." Crutchie knew that wasn't physically possible for him. If he couldn't laugh, then how was he going to climb out windows and all over fire escapes?

"Dollface, I ain't walkin so good," he said carefully, trying not to worry Dollface more.

"Then I'll carry you out," she said, a small hint of desperation in her voice. He shook his head, refusing to let his sister come to the rescue. He was going to walk out those gates by himself and with no one's help.

"I ain't being carried nowhere," he said firmly. "If I can't walk, I ain't goin nowhere, ya hear?"

"I hear," she said, nodding. "But we's gonna win this strike, ok? We's gonna win. We's gonna fight for you."

"I know you's gonna win," he said proudly. "You's got the best friends anyone could ask for. And you gots Jack." Crutchie felt confident that his friends would come through and that Jack would lead them to victory but his heart sank slightly when he saw the look on Dollface's face. Her confident attitude had disappeared and she was trying to put on a brave face for him.

"Yeah, we gots Jack," she said, not making eye contact. They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say but simply enjoying sitting next to each other again. Crutchie was just about to warn Dollface that Snyder was more eager than ever to catch her but she spoke up first.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I let ya get caught. I'm sorry I didn't protect ya."

"This ain't your fault," he said adamantly.

"Yeah it is," she said. "If I hadn't got caught by Oscar, you coulda gotten away. I just shouldn't a called out for ya. You was too busy lookin afta me and you got caught."

"Hey, I would do anythin to protect you," he said, grabbing her hand. "Even if it meant I got caught and you got away. As long as you's safe, that's all that mattas." He could never tell her what he went through just to keep information from Snyder.

"I'm gonna get you outta here," she said, squeezing his hand. "I promise." She bent over and kissed his forehead gently. Just then there was a loud scuffle as Rover ran over to them.

"Hey, you gotta go," he said urgently. "Snyda's comin."

"I'll see ya later," she said to Crutchie as the boy pulled her away. He struggled to sit up and saw her run to the end of the room with Rover. She stopped to say something to him which he responded to by nodding.

Then the door opened and Dollface was gone, Rover slamming the window shut behind her. Snyder had only just stepped in the room but the sound of the window shutting so loudly caught his attention. He whipped his head to the back of the room and took long strides towards Rover, who stood in front of the window trying to act innocent.

"What's this about, boy?" Snyder barked at him. "You shouldn't be opening windows."

"We didn't," Rover said quickly. "There was a fly and I just smacked it hard with my hand." Snyder slapped him with the back of his hand and pushed him aside, throwing open the window and looking around outside. Crutchie stopped breathing, praying Dollface had made it safely out of sight. Then his head froze as he clearly spotted something and Crutchie's stomach dropped.

"Boyer!" Snyder shouted, closing the window and running from the room. He slammed the door shut behind him. All at once the room erupted into noise. Boys talking about what just happened or what would happen. Some ran to the window to try and catch a glimpse of all the action. Crutchie say frozen in fear, clenching the sheet on the bed and trying not to picture Dollface getting caught. After a few minutes, the door knob jiggled again and everyone stopped talking, stopped running around, stopped moving.

Snyder walked in, cane in hand, and took a long slow look around at the boys. Then he spotted Crutchie and walked slowly over to his bed. He stopped and looked down at him, his expression unreadable.

"Don't you have manners, boy," he said finally. "Stand when you're being addressed by an adult." Crutchie pushed himself into a sitting position and then grabbed onto the bed above him to pull himself up. He bit his lip to keep from screaming out in pain. Finally he turned to face Snyder, not having the energy to pick up his crutch.

"Do you know what just happened?" he asked very quietly. Crutchie shook his head but Snyder slapped his face. "I think you damn well do. Your sister was here. She climbed down that fire escape and ran from us as we tried to catch her. She climbed that gate and ran for it." Crutchie released a breath he didn't know he was holding. She got away. That was all he cared about.

"I'm sick of you brats!" Snyder shouted, his anger coming out at last. "You helped her in this room! You talked to her about the strike, didn't you? And she ran slipped out of my fingers once again because of you!" Snyder raised his cane and Crutchie braced himself for yet another blow but it never came. Rover had grabbed Snyder's arm and prevented him from hitting Crutchie.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snyder said, yanking his arm away. Rover silently and calmly moved to stand in front of Crutchie.

"I think you's done enough to him for one day," he said defiantly, glaring up at Snyder. He stood his ground, not even flinching when Snyder brought the cane down on his shoulder. Rover groaned but remained standing, refusing to let Snyder get to Crutchie.

"Fine, protect your little friend," Snyder snarled. "You won't be able to protect him much longer." Snyder knocked Rover's shins with the cane, knocking him to the ground, and swiftly walked out the room. The door slammed and the room was began to fill with chatter.

"Thank you," Crutchie said, offering to help Rover stand up but he declined.

"That was rotten what he did," Rover said, attempting to brush the dirt off of his already filthy pants. "Beatin on you all day and then yellin at you for something you didn't do."

"You alright?" Crutchie asked as Rover rubbed the shoulder Snyder hit.

"I'm fine," he said, not the least bit concerned about his shoulder. "We's all pretty used to gettin banged up around here. It's no big deal." Crutchie collapsed back onto the bed, having used all his energy to stand in front of Snyder. Rover sat down next to him.

"So is this strike actually happening?" he asked. "That's gotta be why Snyda wants to get your sista so bad."

"Naw, she's just had too many close calls with him," Crutchie said. "I think it's less about the strike and more about the satisfaction of catching us. Not to mention Dollface tends to cause a lot of trouble. Her and Jack. Boy, I can just see what Snyda would look like if he got them both."

"Jack? Jack Kelly?" Rover repeated excitedly. Crutchie nodded. "We shared a bunk most nights when he was in here a few years back. I watched him escape on Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. That was the best thing I eva saw!" Rover laughed at the memory.

"That's Cowboy," Crutchie said, smiling as he recalled the numerous times Jack told that story, getting more excited and exaggerated each time. "Well Jack's leadin it of course. Add that to his long list of existing offenses plus the fact that he helped Dollface get away from Snyda last night and Jack is public enemy numba one in Snyda's book."

"Boy, I sure hope they can pull this one off," Rover said excited. Rover then talked excitedly about Jack and retold the story of his escape. Crutchie listened as he watched something takeover in Rover, something that made him speak highly of Jack and the strike, something that made him smile despite his throbbing shoulder. It was hope. That was when Crutchie realized that the strike wasn't just for the newsies. He realized that the strike was for all the kids of New York who were struggling just to stay alive. It was for all the mistreated children in the refuge. The idea of a bunch of kids going on strike gave them something to believe in. Crutchie now hoped more than ever that they would win.

* * *

**shorter than usual but I like this chapter a lot because you get to see the other side of the conversation Dollface has with Crutchie in my other story. hope everyone in the US had a good thanksgiving!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Crutchie, wake up," Rover was saying after what only seemed like a few hours of sleep. Crutchie groaned, his entire body sore and aching, his leg now throbbing. He slowly sat up and looked to the window. It _had_ only been a few hours of sleep. The sun had barely even risen .

"What time is it?" Crutchie asked groggily. The room was slowly filling with noise as the boys began to wake up and move around. Rover was standing next to the bed, pulling on some pants.

"A little past five," he said, pulling suspenders on. "We wake up early here at the refuge. Fun, ain't it?" Crutchie rubbed at his tired eyes and carefully got out of bed. He ignored the pain in his leg and grabbed his crutch.

"Is there a place I can wash up? Maybe get some water?" Crutchie asked Rover, his mouth feeling very dry.

"Nope," Rover said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We got two toilets in this room. No sinks, no nothin. They gives us some water at breakfast in about an hour."

"Why is we up so early?" Crutchie asked, watching the other boys mill about the room.

"They like the refuge to look spick and span before anyone actually gets here," he explained. "Most of us will be cleaning the halls, the floors, the rooms. Some go into the kitchens though and prepare the food for the day. Others will do all the guards laundry. Snyda's too."

"Cleaning and laundry?" Crutchie repeated. "Is that all we has to do?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he shrugged. He then looked around him, noticing no one was listening, and then leaned closer to Crutchie and whispered, "I got you a job in the kitchen. It'll be easier than scrubbin floors all day."

"You didn't hafta do that," Crutchie said, slightly embarrassed.

"Sure I did," he said, waving him off. "I just had a little chat with one of the guards. Said you ran away from your pop and then made him feel bad about you bein beat up. He gots a son, ya see. He all of a sudden felt real bad when I brought up that it could very well be his kid in here instead."

"Thanks, Rover," Crutchie said, grateful to have met such a friendly and kid person. About a minute later, the door was unlocked and everyone ordered to their jobs. Boys from all different room spilled into the hallway. Rover grabbed a tall, rather muscular boy coming out if a room across the hall and pulled him over to meet Crutchie.

"Crutchie, this is my good friend, Rat," he said, introducing him. "Rat, this is Crutchie. He just got arrested for bein in the newsie strike. He knows Jack."

"Why do they call ya Rat?" Crutchie asked, rather intimidated by the boy who reminded him too much like the Delanceys. "Cuz you rat out people?"

"They call me Rat cuz I'm the one they go to to kill all the rats," he said rather defensively. "I gotta talent for the sport. So you know Jack?"

"Yeah, we's real good pals," Crutchie said, following the crowd as they turned into the stairwell. Crutchie did his best to walk down the stairs but with his leg worse that ever, he couldn't refuse the help of Rover.

"Rat's down in the kitchens too," explained Rover, as Crutchie put his free arm around his shoulders and leaned on him. "I told him to keep an eye on ya." After walking down two more sets of stairs, Rover left them on the first floor hallway and grabbed a bucket and brush, ready to go to work.

"Basically all we do right now is get all our food ready," Rat explained as they walked to the kitchen. "Then the guards take it and pass it out to everyone. Then we prepare his majesty's breakfast."

"His majesty?" Crutchie repeated.

"Mr. Snyda of course," Rat said, scowling. They had finally reached the kitchen. There were already ten or fifteen boys in it, running around stoves and throwing food into pots. There were some boys set to work on chopping carrots and potatoes. Rat pulled up a chair for Crutchie to sit on, earning glares from a few boys, and told him to help slice the bread. He then ran off to help with the food on the stove.

The kitchen got very hot very quickly. Crutchie noticed how filthy it was too. He expected the refuge to be a dirty place but thought that perhaps the kitchen would be cleaner. He wiped away sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and flicked away a beetle, one of many he had seen. Then he heard the squeak of a rat and scurrying of claws on the floor.

"Rat! Got one!" Someone shouted. Rat immediately grabbed a lid to a pot and there was a loud clang. He then stood up, dead rat in hand, and triumphantly tossed it out the small window they had.

An hour later, guards had been given pots of stew, bread, and buckets of water along with grimy bowls and cups. They walked off ready to distribute the food to their assigned areas and the boys in the kitchen finally had a break to eat themselves. Being the new kid, Crutchie was the last to get his food. He sat down, looking at his sad meal. He ignored the bits of dirt in his cup and gulped down his water. The "stew" they had made was mostly old boiled carrots and potatoes. The bread was stale. But still Crutchie forced all the food down as he was starving. He wished he could have had more food but it was all gone.

The minute they finished eating, they were out straight back to work. Some of the boys began cleaning the pots while others started to prepare more food. Crutchie, not sure what to do, watched the boys prepare a much bigger meal with better food. His stomach began to grumble as one boy cracked an egg into a sizzling pan. Soon the smell of sausage was in the air too. Crutchie tried to distract himself from his hunger by setting to work washing dishes. It would be a good way to clean his hands too.

But he found the sink to be just as grimy as the rest of the refuge. There wasn't even any soap. Once he had finished washing the last pot, he rinsed off his hands and splashed cold water on his face, trying to rub off the dried blood from his cut. Suddenly Crutchie felt a stabbing pain on his back and jumped around. One of the guards was there and had just hit him with his police baton.

"Quit wasting the water kid," he barked. "I was sent here to tell you that you are supposed to take Mr. Snyder his breakfast. He said he wanted it delivered by the gimp. Personally." Crutchie nodded and walked over to the table, where Snyder's completed breakfast sat on a tray. He carefully picked up the tray with one arm, resting it on his forearm, and followed the man out the room. Before the door shut, however, Crutchie caught the confused look on Rat's face as he watched them walk away.

The whole walk to Snyder's office, Crutchie worried about why Snyder had specifically requested him. Was it just another way to try to get him to reveal information about the strike or Dollface or Jack? What could he possibly gain by making Crutchie deliver his food? Surely he just wanted the pleasure of seeing Crutchie work for him, having finally caught not only a runaway but also a newsie. They reached the closed door of Snyder's office and stopped. The policeman opened the door for Crutchie, whose hands were full, and let him inside.

Snyder looked up from behind his desk at the sound of the door closing. He had been smoking a pipe and leaning back in his chair, feet propped up arrogantly on the desk and eyes closed. He smirked as Crutchie wordlessly placed the tray on his desk and then turned to leave.

"Not so fast boy," his voice called out, stopping Crutchie. "I wanted to ask you a few things. Have a seat, let's chat." Crutchie's heart began to race as he sat down, expecting to be interrogated again.

"How was your first night, son?" Snyder asked, sitting up in his seat.

"Uh... Sorry, sir?" Crutchie said, taken by surprise. He was sure it would be another question about the strike.

"I said how was your first night?" he asked again, picking up a fork and taking a bite of eggs. Crutchie's stomach gave a very audible growl, making Snyder smirk.

"Fine, sir," he said quietly, averting his hungry eyes from the large meal before him.

"I see you made a friend. How darling," he sneered mockingly. "What's that boy's name again? Ranger? Roper?"

"Rover, sir," Crutchie said, not seeing the point to any of this. "If you don't mind, though, I should probably be getting back-"

"How are you feeling today?" Snyder asked, cutting off a piece of sausage.

"I'm doin fine," Crutchie said quickly. Truth was he was in a great deal of pain just from his leg alone. His head was throbbing and every step he took sent stabbing pains through his abdomen. But he pushed all this to the back of his mind, willing himself to appear strong in front of Snyder. If he was going to survive in this refuge, he couldn't let Snyder know he got to him.

"You sure about that kid? Cuz you're limping pretty badly," Snyder said, waving a fork full of eggs at Crutchie. "If you asked me, someone who's in good health wouldn't be chopping potatoes in the kitchen. They should be hard at work. But if you're not up for a little manual labor, then you just keep on slicing carrots."

"I'm up for anything you throw at me," Crutchie said strongly. "Tell me and I'll get the job done."

"So glad to hear that," Snyder said. "Because during your stay here, you will be working for me. When I say jump, you say how high. You clear my plates when I'm done. You fetch my coffee. You scrub these floors until I can see my face in them. You got that boy?" Crutchie nodded, curling his fingers into fists and trying not to let his anger show. Snyder smiled at having successfully manipulated Crutchie. Snyder then forced him to sit and watch him finish his meal, snickering when he heard Crutchie's stomach growling loudly. Crutchie gathered the dishes up when he had finished and left the room, Snyder shouting after him to bring up coffee when he came back.

"Wutchu mean you ain't working down here no more," Rat asked once Crutchie said he wasn't going to be able to help in the kitchen anymore.

"I told ya. Snyda's makin me be his personal servant while I'm here," Crutchie said, pouring a cup of coffee. "I gots to do what he tells me. Like bringing him coffee."

"Man, I ain't eva heard of anyone being Snyda's servant before," one boy, Jersey, chimed in. "I know he sometimes makes us clean his office but that's about it."

"I think he's playin games with my head," Crutchie said, thinking. "He couldn't get any information outta me from bustin me up. Now he's gonna try a different way and see what happens."

"Wutchu think he's gonna do?" Jersey asked.

"No clue," Crutchie shrugged. "That's what scares me. When he was beatin me, at least I knew a punch or kick was comin. With this, I don't gotta clue. Well I'll be back to pick up his lunch. See ya fellas." Crutchie picked up the cup of coffee, left the dirty, though friendly, kitchen and made his way back to Snyder's office. He reached the door and then paused for a moment, overcome with frustration and anger. He quickly looked around and then spit in the coffee, swirling the liquid around. Feeling slightly better, he walked in and silently handed Snyder his coffee.

* * *

The rest of the morning, Snyder made Crutchie organize files and cluttered drawers. Crutchie found himself nodding off from the dull work and lack of sleep so was thankful when it was time for him to fetch Snyder 's lunch, glad to be moving. He greeted the boys in the kitchen with a faint hello, scarfed down the moldy bread and small bowl of boiled carrots, and began walking back to Snyder's office. The large sandwich on the plate looked delicious and Crutchie had to force himself not to steal the shiny red apple from the tray, but as his stomach gave another grumble, he quickly ate one of the pickle slices and hoped no one saw.

Still savoring the pickle, Crutchie walked into the office to find Snyder reading the paper. Setting the tray on the desk, Crutchie saw it was _The Sun_ and recalled that was the paper the girl reporter wrote for. He didn't care to look at the headlines, still on strike from the newspapers even though he wasn't there.

"Would ya look at that," Snyder said, trying to gain Crutchie's attention. "Looks like you're little friends made a pape." Though he didn't want to give Snyder the satisfaction, Crutchie couldn't help but look at the paper again. It was a front page article about the strike, about the newsies. NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD was in bold letters above a picture of everyone, smiling happily and their fists thrust defiantly in the air. Crutchie felt a pang in his chest at seeing the happy faces of his friends. He missed them dearly. Rover and Rat were great but Crutchie wanted nothing more than to be sitting around in Tibby's and laughing with each other. As he looked at Dollface in the picture he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing and if she was safe. Crutchie began to read the first few sentences if the article, noticing that Katherine Plumber was the author, but Snyder slammed his hand on the page, blocking the words.

"Looks like you and your dumb friends made the pape," he muttered rather disgruntled. "I'll have to have a word with our guards today. Need to make sure no one sees this. Don't want the boys to think you're something special, now do we?"

"No, sir," Crutchie said, receiving a dirty glare from Snyder. But nothing could get rid of the joy he felt. They were starting to catch people's attention. The editors must be pushing through the strike material, it must be worthy to sell. They might actually be taken seriously. Crutchie bit his lip to keep from smiling as he stole another glance at their picture in the paper. He had made the front page news.

However, his good mood quickly faded as Snyder forced him to sit and watch him eat another meal. The pickle Crutchie had scarfed down did nothing to stop his growling stomach. He could only count down the hours until the next meal, despite knowing the food wouldn't be any better than it had been all day. Crutchie sighed as he cleared Sndyer's dishes and left the room. Too focused on getting down to the kitchen to report the latest news of the strike, he didn't notice the two boys standing in the hallway until one stuck out his foot, tripping him. Crutchie fell forward, dishes clattering the ground, one breaking, and his crutch going flying across the hall. The boys laughed.

"So here he is, the little newsboy himself," one of them said, crunching on a piece of broken glass. Both boys were big, much larger than Crutchie, and looked to be much older too. They had crooked teeth and dirty smiles. But for living in the refuge, they weren't very skinny or frail. They both looked like they ate full plates for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Wanted to meet ya ourselves, kid," the other laughed. "I'm Charlie and this here's Bull."

"We's been eaga to see ya eva since we got word a newsies was here," Bull said. "Even betta when we heard you was a crip!"

"Yeah, great to meet ya too," Crutchie grumbled, crawling for his crutch. His leg throbbed painfully having been knocked to the ground but he was certainly not going to let these guys know that. He reached out for the crutch but Charlie grabbed it first, holding it above his head.

"Oh looks like the crip's havin some trouble today," Charlie mocked. "Would ya like some help?"

"Look, would ya quit it?" Crutchie said annoyed, struggling to stand up without his crutch. "I hafta get these dishes down to the kitchen or else Snyda will kill me."

"See that's what we came here to talk to you about kid," Bull said, stepping closer to Crutchie. "We's been here a while. Nearly six years. And all we's done is clean floors. Clean walls. Clean toilets for cryin out loud."

"And then _you_ come waltzin in here," Charlie said, leaning on the crutch. "And Snyda just hands you the best job in this joint."

"Workin for Snyda's the best job in this joint?" Crutchie repeated. "I gotta tell you it really ain't-"

"Did we say you could talk?" Bull jumped in. "Yeah, it is the best job in the joint. Sure is betta than scrubbin toilets all day long, havin the guards breathin down your necks. Not bein able to take a break, not bein able to talk to ya buddies, _if_ they happen to be workin near ya."

"And we saw you eat that pickle," Charlie said. "We saw you sneak that and eat it in one bite. That could be us. Clearin dishes and eatin pickles. But instead, it's a no good crip doin it. What's ya name, crip?"

"Look, just leave me alone, alright," Crutchie began to say but Charlie shoved him against the wall. His bad leg buckled and he slid to the ground.

"I said what's ya name, crip?" he asked more aggressively.

"Crutchie," he said, embarrassed for the first time at his nickname. His face burned as the boys laughed at him. Crutchie had not been happy at first when he heard what the other newsies had dubbed him but soon embraced it, not wanting to always brood on his gimp leg. Now he merely stood up again and grabbed the crutch from Charlie's hand.

"Oh kid, you's gonna have some fun here," Bull laughed. Crutchie ignored them and began to clean up the dishes. Bull reached down and picked up a cup. He then threw it at the wall, shattering it, and Charlie kicked Crutchie in the side, knocking him over once again.

"We'll be seein you around, Crutchie," Charlie shouted as they ran down the hall. Snyder's door suddenly opened and he looked to see Crutchie on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. He stormed over to Crutchie and slapped him across the face.

"Look what you did!" he shouted at him, kicking glass at him. "You are going to clean this up and so help me God, if you drop one more dish, you won't ever hear the end of it!" He stormed back into the office, slamming the door behind him.

Crutchie sighed, ignoring the pain once again running through his tired body, and began to clean up the broken glass, only scraping his hand once. Once he had cleaned everything, he picked himself up and walked back to the kitchen with the empty tray in hand. He walked in and slammed the tray on the counter, making some of the boys jump.

"What happened to you?" the youngest boy, Patrick, asked, following Crutchie to the sink.

"Made some new friends," Crutchie said, turning on the sink to wash off the cut on his hand. "Bull and Charlie."

"Oh yeah, they's not so nice," Patrick said, folding his arms on the side of the sink. "You know you ain't supposed to be usin the sink."

"I don't really care. I'm gonna get beat up anyway," Crutchie said, turning off the sink and drying his hands on his pants, not caring as he smeared them with blood. "Might as well have clean hands to defend myself with."

"Sorry 'bout Bull and Charlie," Rat said, overhearing their conversation. "They's just about a month away from gettin set loose. But they's the worst ones here. They gotta gang, just a few fellas who would rather be doin the beatin than gettin beat, but when Bull and Charlie ain't with 'em, they don't do much but make bad insults."

"I ain't worried 'bout them, I seen worse," Crutchie said, thinking of the Delanceys and pushing bad thoughts to the back of his mind. "I came down here to talk about the strike. We made the papes." The whole room went crazy, clapping and congratulating Crutchie.

"Yeah, it's real big," Crutchie said once they settled down. "We gots a big headline and a nice picture, front page and everything. It'll get people's attention. They might read it and listen to us. They might start caring 'bout us. And just so all you fellas know, this strike isn't just for us newsies. It's for all us kids that don't got a cushy house with a loving motha and fatha. It's for all of us who gots to work hard to stay off the streets. And it's for all of you kids who live in this godforsaken refuge with Snyda breathin down ya necks. We's fightin for all of you too."

Crutchie left the kitchen feeling much better. Seeing those boys smile and cheer over the good news about the strike made him feel like he wasn't so alone. There was nothing better than when he saw Patrick grinning up at him, his two front teeth missing. He was going to get through Snyder and Bull and Charlie because there was so much more to cheer for. The strike. His friends. Jack. Dollface. And the new friends he was making when he wasn't being yelled at.

* * *

**this one's a little long but hopefully you guys won't mind :) please leave a review! I know you guys are reading this so let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

"You got a visitor," Snyder said, as Crutchie walked in carrying his tray of dinner.

"Sorry, sir?" Crutchie said, slightly confused.

"You got a visitor," he repeated as Crutchie set down the tray of food. "Wait here a few minutes and someone will be here to take you."

Crutchie sat down, too deep in thought to watch Snyder eating his large meal. Who on earth would be visiting him? It couldn't be one of the newsies. If any of them showed up at the refuge, they would only get arrested. Perhaps it was Kloppman. Maybe the boys were worried and asked him to go for them. Or maybe it was Katherine Plumber or another reporter, ready to interview a captured newsie for another article on the strike. But then there was a knock on the door as a guard arrived to take Crutchie to meet his visitor.

Crutchie paid no attention to where he was going. He was far too preoccupied to pay attention to his surroundings. Suddenly they came to a stop in front of a large door. The guard opened the door to a dark room and let Crutchie in. He looked around the room for his visitor and jumped when he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. His heart sank into his stomach as he heard the door close and lock behind him.

"Hello, son," his father said, grinning darkly. "Good to see you."

"What do you want?" Crutchie asked in disgust.

"That's no way to greet ya fatha," he slurred, taking a gulp from the bottle in his hand. He then extended it out to Crutchie. "Have a sip and let's chat."

"No, I want to know why you's here," Crutchie said, firmly. "Why the hell did you show up here afta all these years? How did you find me? And why won't you just go away?"

"You see sonnie," he said, taking another large gulp. "I been checkin into the refuge 'bout a few times a month since you and ya sista ran off. I walked in today and was glad to hear one of you brats was caught. Mista Snyda was glad too. So now all I gots to do is find that damned sista of yours and then you's both will be taken care of."

"I ain't gonna tell you where she is," Crutchie said, staying as far away from him as possible. He knew that once he started arguing with him, things would get bad. "She's safe and has been eva since we left you. You's a lousy excuse for a fatha. You don't deserve to be breathin right now. I hate your guts so much right now that its takin everything in me not to kick your ass."

"Very well, son," he said, finishing off the bottle. "If that's how you want to do this..." Suddenly he threw the empty bottle at Crutchie, who turned his back and shouted as it shattered on the back of his shoulder. Then before he could turn back to do anything, he was grabbed, spun around, and then punched in the nose. Crutchie felt like it had been broken and quickly wiped away the blood that began trickling down over his mouth.

He took his crutch and swung it at the man's knees. Being drunk and off balance already, this knocked him sideways to the ground. Crutchie then kicked him in the jaw and stomped his foot on his chest. He leaned down so close he could smell the liquor on his father's breath.

"I ain't no helpless little kid no more," Crutchie said fearlessly, staring into the dark, cold eyes that gave him nightmares as a child. "I can stand up for myself now. I got what it takes to let you know that you ain't eva gonna hurt me or Essie again."

Then he grabbed Crutchie's ankle that was on his chest and shoved it upward, throwing Crutchie off balance and knocking him on his back. His head began to spin as he hit the hard floor and for a few terrifying seconds he couldn't even move. When he finally could see again, his father was standing over him with a shard of glass from the broken bottle. Crutchie quickly rolled over and out of the way as the man forcefully stabbed at him. Crutchie hopped up, adrenaline rushing through him and giving him the energy to fight, bent over to grab his crutch to use as his own weapon.

In the split second that his back was to his father, he felt a sharp stinging pain in his side. He looked down to see fabric ripped and blood dripping from a large cut. Then he was shoved against the wall and the shard of glass pressed to his throat. Crutchie stopped moving and tried to catch his breath. One wrong move and he was dead.

"Now let's have that chat," the man said, breathing heavily.

"I told you ya filthy bastard," Crutchie said boldly. "I ain't gonna tell you where she is." He was then punched in the stomach and a shout escaped his lips.

"Yeah, you is," he said, leaning closer to Crutchie's face. "Now for the last time, where is ya sista?" He pressed the sharp glass up against his throat so hard that Crutchie could feel it digging into his skin and fresh blood dribbled down his neck. He was going to die if he didn't tell him something. But he was never going to give Dollface away, not in a million years. Whatever he told him would have to be very believable but also so far from the truth that Dollface would never be in any actual danger if he went looking for her.

"She's in Brooklyn," he said finally. "Last time I seen her she was in Brooklyn cuz it's easier to sell papes there."

"Brooklyn, huh," he repeated, looking all over Crutchie's face for any signs that he was lying. After a few tense seconds where Crutchie was sure he was going to get his throat cut, his father lowered the glass and dropped it to the ground. He then backed away but Crutchie stayed frozen up against the wall. Suddenly the man moved quickly back and punched Crutchie in the groin. Crutchie fell over, groaning and gritting his teeth.

"That's for bein such a son of a bitch, ya brat," he snarled, walking towards the door.

"That makes you the bitch," Crutchie said through his teeth. The room was flooded with light as the door opened to let his father out. He walked to the door, stopping in the doorframe to face Crutchie.

"Naw, I ain't the bitch of the family," he said. "That'd be ya sista. Like motha like daughta." Crutchie lunged towards him, anger coursing through his whole body, but the guard slammed the door in his face.

"I hope you die you stupid bastard!" Crutchie shouted, slamming his fists on the door. He remained standing there for a few minutes, his rage fading and his heart rate slowing. With the adrenaline gone, Crutchie once again found himself in pain. He slid to the ground and rested, leaning up against the dirty wall. Blood was pouring from his nose so badly that he had given up on stopping from getting all over his face and clothes. His neck stung from where the glass cut him, though not as much as the gash on his side. He could only sit there, occasionally wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and wait for someone to get him. Just as he was nodding off, the door opened and he was blinded by light.

"Boy, he really did a number on you kid," was the guard's only comment. He pulled Crutchie off the ground, shoving his crutch under his arm, and then practically dragged him back to the bunk room. He unlocked the door and shoved Crutchie inside, locking the door as boys surrounded him.

"What happened?"

"Why's ya face bloody?"

"Was it Snyda?"

"Was it Charlie?"

"Would ya shut it!" Crutchie shouted, rather annoyed. He wanted nothing more than to just go curl up in a secluded corner and get some sleep. "I got some information people really want, that's all. Now go away." Crutchie shoved past everyone and limped off towards the end of the room. He could feel all eyes on him as he turned to look out the window.

"Crutch, what happened," Rover said, walking over. "You's a mess. And I don't mean just ya face. You's real pissed, I can see that."

"Just had a real nice chat with my pop," Crutchie said sarcastically. "I ain't seen him in four years and he turns up here. Today. The second day I'm in the refuge. In the middle of the strike. And he asks to know where Dollface is. So he can take care of her like Snyda's takin care of me. He's such a piece of scum. I can't even begin to tell you. I didn't tell him of course. No way am I leadin him to Dollface." He huffed out an exasperated sigh.

"Sounds like you got some family issues," Rover said with a slight laugh. "Well you's a good brotha for not rattin her- shit, Crutchie, there's glass in your shoulder!" Crutchie craned his neck to see that there were indeed bits of glass stuck to his skin through his shirt.

"Would ya look at that," Crutchie said nonchalantly. "That'd be pop's liquor bottle. Cost more than a single piece of clothing he ever bought us."

"Let's go sit somewheres and I'll pick out the glass," Rover said. "And I'll try to get somethin to hold to ya nose, it's drippin blood everywhere." Crutchie followed Rover back to his bunk and let him pick the glass out of his shoulder, wincing as every piece was removed. Rover had just finished when a guard came with a bucket of water and a rag, ordering Crutchie to clean up and stop getting blood everywhere.

"Thanks, Rover," Crutchie said, wringing out the dirty rag. He gently wiped the blood off his face and neck and cleaned his hands before holding the rag to his nose.

"Jesus, what else did he do to ya," Rover said, seeing the gash on his lower back. "This is real deep. Take off your shirt and I'll clean it."

"Rover, you's bein silly," Crutchie said. "I don't need all this help. I'm just a little bruised."

"And covered in blood," Rover said pointedly. "We try to help each otha around here. Sometimes one of us will get sick or have a bad dream. We's there to help him out. Now I see a kid standin in front of me wit a broken nose and a cut on his side and he's probably not tellin us about everythin else. But we know he ain't gonna complain about the rotten hand he's been dealt. Now would you just let us help?"

Crutchie stared into the bucket of water for a moment and then finally pulled off his shirt. Rover gasped, causing Crutchie to look down at his body. There were bruises everywhere. His whole stomach was black and blue. It was a wonder how he didn't cringe in pain with every step he took. Crutchie simply looked away, as seeing all the bruises made it hurt more somehow, and focused on rinsing out the rag, turning the water a bloody red.

"I don't know anyone who deserves this," Rover mumbled as he cleaned the cut on Crutchie's back. He gritted his teeth as Rover cleaned it and then wrapped some long pieces of torn up sheets around him to stop the bleeding. Crutchie thanked him, grabbed his shirt, and went to sit in a deserted corner of the room. He sat down, pressing the rag to his still bleeding nose, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He was exhausted. He was currently running on five or six hours of sleep. He had missed dinner and was now starving. He was getting more and more light headed as he had lost quite a lot of blood and wasn't drinking enough water.

He longed to be home. His heart ached to be with his friends. And Dollface. He could scream out he missed her so badly. He just hoped that he was able to divert their father from her. But if she was with the boys, she would be safe. He imagined that if he was in the boarding house right now, they would all be sitting around, playing another stupid game of cards. Or maybe they'd be planning for the strike.

Suddenly Crutchie sat up, overcome with dizziness for a moment. The strike. He had completely forgotten about it since his father showed up. He hadn't had any news about what was going on. The only thing he knew was that they had gotten in the newspaper. He stood up and walked over to Rover.

"Hey, have you heard anythin 'bout the strike?" he asked him, interrupting his conversation with some boys. Rover shook his head.

"Damnit," Crutchie muttered under his breath. "I gotta go find out somehow. Maybe I can wait til it's real dark and sneak out."

"Or you could just let us take care of it," said Fingers, a boy about Crutchie and Rover's age. "We gots a way of findin stuff out around here."

"Ya just gotta wait and be patient," Dart said, happy to be in a conversation with the older boys.

"Well what do ya do?" Crutchie asked.

"You'll see," William said, a sneaky smile growing on his face. "First we hafta wait til lights out."

"I fell asleep before that last night. When is it?" Crutchie asked. The light in the room was suddenly shut off and the room went dark.

"Now," Rover said, smirking. "Ok Dart, go check the doors. I'll get the othas in bed. William, Fingas, you take Crutchie and get ready by the window." They all moved at once. Dart went to the door and laid down, looking through the crack under the door. Rover began telling the other kids, most of whom were younger than him, to get in bed and not to make any noises. William, Fingers, and Crutchie went to the window at the back of the room and were later joined by Rover. They watched Dart by the door for a few minutes until he gave a thumbs up. Rover quietly opened the window and one by one they climbed out. William and Fingers went down to the first and second landings on the fire escape while Crutchie followed Rover up to the top level.

Once there, Rover stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Crutchie hoped no one would hear it, otherwise they would get caught. A few seconds after Rover's long whistle, another whistle was heard, this time shorter. Then Rover clapped his hands in a pattern, two slow claps followed by three fast claps. Then there was silence. They waited for another minute before Crutchie spoke up.

"What was all that about?" he asked, referring to the claps and whistles. "What are we waitin for?"

"We set up a series of signals," Rover explained. "We get up on the fire escapes every night once the guards leave us alone. You fell asleep before this last night. Most times we don't hear nothin, we just sit here for a few minutes and then go back inside. But sometimes you do get some action goin on. The whistles are to talk to other boys. Each whistle means somethin different. What just happened now was I signaled for my pal Robert. Then he responded saying he was there. Then the claps meant I want him to get Bird."

"Bird? Who's-" Crutchie started asking but Rover continued explaining.

"He's our man outside. We gots some more people too but he's the most reliable," he explained. "He sleeps in the alley near here so can hear our signals. If we eva need somethin, he's the one we go to. We just call him up, he sneaks in real quiet, and we chat wit him."

"Why's he called Bird?" Crutchie asked but someone else answered his question. In the direction of the gates, there came a bird call. A series of short tweets.

"He makes bird sounds," Rover said, smiling. "That one means he's comin in but doesn't know where he needs to go." Then another whistle was heard, three short notes.

"That whistle means 'Rover' so he's comin to see us," Rover said. "Let's go down to the first floor and meet him." Crutchie followed as they climbed down the stairs and met up with William. They waited in silence and a cool breeze blew on Crutchie's bare back, soothing the cuts in his shoulder from the glass. Finally after a few minutes, they heard a softer bird call.

"You's good bird, coast is clear," William said, looking around. A boy came running around the corner, pressed against the shadows of the night, and Rover climbed down the broken ladder. He stuck out an arm, which Bird jumped to and grabbed, and pulled the boy up.

"What's it this time?" Bird asked, once they were all standing again.

"Well Crutchie here started the newsie strike," William said, patting him on the shoulder. "He was hopin to get some information on what's goin on."

"You started the strike?" Bird repeated. Crutchie nodded and Bird laughed. "Boy, you fellas sure screwed up the circulation centers with that little stunt yestaday." Was it really only yesterday that they has stormed the circulation center?

"What's goin on wit the strike?" Crutchie asked. "Anyone else been caught? Is anyone hurt? What do ya know about Jack Kelly's group of newsies? Any word yet on other kids joining in?"

"Whoa, kid, slow down," Bird said, a small smile on his face. "Right now, I don't know much but I can find out more when I leave. As of now, I heard there ain't much goin on. It's as if all the newsies on strike disappeared. I think I saw a buncha 'em at Tibby's dis mornin though. They wasn't workin or nothin though."

"Word has it though that Pulitzer's paid off some otha kids," Bird continued. "Bought 'em nice clothes and paid 'em loads to sell what the otha newsies ain't. Then of course I heard a rumor Kelly ain't in on the strike anymore. That he dropped out and is skippin town."

"Jack ain't wit the strike?" Crutchie asked, surprised to hear this. Bird shrugged and Crutchie suddenly became angry, kicking the wall. "Come on, cowboy! You's bein a wimp! Just grow a pair and-"

Rover clapped his hand over Crutchie's mouth, as he was too loud and likely to draw attention. They all stood there quietly to make sure the coast was clear. After a few moments, Rover took his hand away from Crutchie.

"That pisses me off," Crutchie grumbled. "So he just gets us all to start a strike, wit him as leada, and then wants to leave cuz of one fight?"

"Whoa, calm down," Rover said, grabbing his shoulder. "You're bleedin through the bandage." He pointed to the gash on his back, to the growing crimson red blotch on the fabric wrapped around Crutchie's waist. Crutchie's blood was pumping fast as his anger and frustration rose.

"Look let's just set up a system and then get inside," Rover said. "Ok so the plan's this Bird. Tonight and tomorrow go get all the information you can about this strike. What are they gonna do? What do they want? Who's helpin? How's Pulitzer reactin? All that stuff. The boardin house about a block away from the circulation center is good."

"That one's mine," Crutchie said, breathing in calmer breaths. "Ask what Jack's doin. And check on my sista. Name's Dollface. She gots tons a freckles and light green eyes and long brown hair that- on second thought, she's the only girl newsie. Shouldn't be too hard to find her. Just make sure she's in one piece."

"So once you get good enough information, get back here," Rover said, forming more of the plan. "Try and dress yaself up real nice, like a delivery boy. Bring a crate of some kind, say ya got tomatoes or something for the kitchen. They'll let you down to the kitchen and you tell Rat what you know. Then when you leave, say you'll be back tomorrow wit apples. Do that everyday 'round lunch. Then meet us here each night about this time. We'll whistle when the coast is clear."

"Sounds good to me," he shrugged, beginning to climb down the ladder. "Good to see ya again, fellas." He leapt down to the ground, landing gracefully and quietly, then looked back up.

"Nice to meet ya, Crutchie," he said with a wink and ran off.

"There ya have it," William said, climbing back up to their floor. "Bird will find out everything there is to know."

"How'd ya meet him if he ain't in the refuge?" Crutchie asked, following the boys.

"Oh he was in the refuge," Fingers said. "We hated him when he was here though. He was alway a prick. Actin all nice and all hoity toity around the guards and Snyda. Then he told us he was hopin to get out on good behavior. He gots a little brotha he's gotta look afta."

"Sure enough though, he got out," Rover said, climbing back through the window. "He and his brotha work in some factory. But they live in an alley real close, that's why he can hear all our whistles. One time he snuck in to bring us some new clothes, ones that was a little messed up in the factory. He started visitin more and more, tellin us what was goin on outside the refuge sometimes, sometimes just comin to chat." Crutchie had trouble climbing back in the window, the gash in his side now throbbing, and accepted Dart's hand as he helped him inside.

"So what'd ya find out?" Dart asked eagerly, closing the window.

"Shh!" Rover hushed the young boy. "Ya wanna wake up the whole room or somethin?"

"Didn't have much to say right now," Fingers whispered. "But he's gonna find out tomorrow and then sneak into the kitchen at lunch. Probably gonna come back at night too."

"I'm just glad I know he's comin back," Crutchie said. "Those is all my friends in the strike. That's my sista too. I just gotta know if they's alright."

"They will be," Rover said, reassuringly. "Now let's just go to bed."

"Oh forgot to tell ya," Dart said sheepishly. "Uh... some kids took ya bed. I tried to stop 'em but they wouldn't listen or nothin." Rover sighed but patted the boy's head.

"It's ok, Dart," he said. "I'm fine on the floor tonight." He stopped and looked around at the rest of the room. That was when they all noticed every bed was taken, most had two boys in them.

"I guess we's all sleepin on the floor," Crutchie shrugged, walking over to where he had been sitting down earlier. They all followed him and found a comfortable place on the floor.

"Night, fellas," William muttered, already half asleep. They all mumbled back to him and closed their eyes. Crutchie grabbed his shirt and balled it up, using it as a pillow. He flipped over to his stomach, as the floor stung the cuts on his side and shoulder, and found sleep easily, surprised he could do so on the dirty, cold floor.

* * *

**so this is pretty long too I guess... But it also explains why their father randomly shows up in Brooklyn when Dollface is there in my other story. Cuz I totally planned it that way. I'm like JK Rowling... it all works out in the end... Kinda. Anyway, please review! **


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning was rough. Crutchie was sore all over, not only from the fights with Snyder and his father, but also from sleeping on the floor all night. He whipped his head to the side and cracked his stiff neck, then bent back over to the floor he was scrubbing. He had hardly gotten a chance to eat his breakfast (cold leftovers) before he was ordered to bring Snyder _his_ breakfast. Crutchie spit in it again. Instead of making Crutchie watch him eat, Snyder had instead ordered him to clean every inch of his office.

"I want this floor so clean that I can see my face in it, boy!" he had barked at Crutchie, throwing him a bucket with a scrub brush, soap, a rag, and floor polish. On his way to fill the bucket with water, Crutchie had encountered Charlie and Bull again. He kept his head down, hoping they wouldn't recognize him, but it was hard to miss the kid with the crutch.

They did nothing when he passed the first time and Crutchie breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the bathroom, turning on the faucet and filling the bucket. But on the way back, he had let his guard down and didn't notice Bull stick his leg out. Crutchie fell forward, the water splashing all over him and the guard that had had his back turned until that second.

"You clumsy idiot," he yelled, kicking the bucket back at Crutchie. "Look what ya did! Clean this up, now!" Bull and Charlie snickered behind him.

Now, Crutchie coughed as he inhaled yet another dust ball. The only thing keeping Crutchie going was knowing that at lunchtime, he could go to the kitchen and speak with Bird. He had a small knot in his stomach, knowing that Bird would have much more information than before, meaning that he could have found out about someone getting hurt. Or arrested. Or he could have heard bad news, like the newsies giving up or no one else joining. But Crutchie took a calming breath, careful not to inhale more dust, and reasoned that it was better to know what was going on, even if it was bad news, than to know nothing at all.

He was relieved when Snyder barked at him to quickly go eat his lunch and then bring back his tray. Crutchie slowly left the room, careful not to show his eagerness, and then ran down to the kitchen, hopping quickly on his good leg. He walked in and saw Bird sitting with the other boys, who were already eating.

"Crutch! Just in time!" Rat said cheerfully. He handed the out of breath Crutchie a bowl of cold mush and made room for him to sit on the counter.

"What'd ya find out?" Crutchie asked, taking a bite of his food. He almost spit it back out but forced it down into his stomach.

"Oh it's real good news," Bird said, absentmindedly combing his hair with his fingers. His long hair was much cleaner than it was the previous night. He had also washed the dirt off his face and his shirt and vest were completely buttoned up. He had taken Rover's advice to clean up and look like a real delivery boy.

"Real good news," Bird said again. "Practically everyone's in on the strike now. Somethin happened wit Brooklyn last night and they changed their minds. Said they'd help wit the strike and everythin. Then all the otha boroughs joined in."

"It does look betta if Spot Conlon is in on it," Jersey said. "He ain't one to do somethin if he knew it wasn't goin no where."

"That's what I was thinkin," Rat said, scraping his bowl. "Do ya know what made him do it?"

"Don't know the details," Bird said, playing with a button on his shirt. "I ovaheard some of the newsies outside the circulation center that's round the corna." Crutchie nearly choked on his food.

"That's them!" he exclaimed. "Those is my friends! Was they all ok? Did anyone look hurt? How many were there? What was they doin?"

"They was real excited about somethin. They was all laughin and shoutin," he said. Crutchie snorted. Laughing and shouting. That was _definitely_ them. "And then all of sudden they walked off in different directions. I grabbed one kid to ask what was goin on. That's when he told me 'bout Brooklyn joinin and everythin. I went with them for a while to get more news."

"But did he say _why_ Brooklyn alla sudden joined in?" Rat asked, dying to know the answer.

"Can't rememba exactly," Bird said. "I think he said they sent someone to Brooklyn late last night. Yeah, that was it. Someone went to smooth talk Conlon." Crutchie's stomach dropped and it had nothing to do with the slop he was eating.

"Do you know who went?" Crutchie asked. He had sent his father to Brooklyn last night. But there was a slim chance Dollface had been the one to go. She hated Brooklyn. She hated Conlon. That was why Crutchie had been so sure she would be safely far away from Brooklyn

"Like I said, I can't rememba exactly what everyone was sayin," Bird said. "But whoeva went definitely convinced Conlon. Ain't it great! The strike might actually go somewheres now." Crutchie swallowed down the last of his food, a nervous lump now in his stomach. It couldn't have been Dollface who had gone. The newsies wouldn't have made her go by herself at night. It was probably Racetrack or Mush or Boots.

"What about Jack Kelly? What's he doin?" Patrick said eagerly. Patrick idolized Jack. Whenever Crutchie had talked to him, all he asked about was Jack. Crutchie didn't have the heart to tell him that Jack might not be working with the strike anymore.

"I ain't heard much 'bout Kelly," Bird admitted, slightly downcast. "Tried to ask but no one really knew what he was up to." Bird noticed Patrick frown.

"But I'm sure whateva he's doin," he said quickly, "He's comin up wit somethin real good for the strike. You bet that's what he's doin. He's real smart. And slick. He's the strike's secret weapon." Secret weapon. Crutchie then remembered Jack talking that night at Tibby's about how Spot had a thing for Dollface. He remembered Racetrack muttering beside him that she could be their secret weapon.

"_But I think the way to solve the Brooklyn issue is for you to go down there and meet with Spot alone," _Jack had said.

"Bird, please, try and rememba," Crutchie said, now panicked. "Who went to Brooklyn? Was it a girl? Was it Dollface?" The mention of the name jogged Bird's memory.

"Yeah! That was it!" he said, everything coming back to him. "The kid told me that the girl, Dollface, had gone down to talk to Conlon. Then he started laughin a lot and couldn't keep up wit the story." Crutchie jumped down from the counter.

"Shit!" he said, freaking out. "No. No. No!"

"What? What's wrong?" Rat asked, concerned.

"No," Crutchie said, nervously pacing. "I can't believe she went to Brooklyn. Alone for crying out loud! And of all night's she went last night. Fuck!"

"Crutchie, what the hell's the matta?" Jersey asked.

"My fatha came by yestaday," Crutchie said, hoping to explain quickly. "We ran away when we was little cuz he beat us, almost killed us most times. And then he heard I got caught and came to see it himself. He was hopin to get my sista too. Tried beatin it out of me and then almost slit my throat so I had to lie. I had to say something. So I sent him to Brooklyn. Dollface neva goes to Brooklyn, she hates it there. God! What if he found her? He coulda killed her. She could be dead right now. Or he coulda done somethin else. He mighta-" Crutchie cut himself off, trying not to think of all the things he could have done to her.

"Hey, it's alright," Bird said. "I think she was ok. I think I saw a girl there with 'em." Crutchie stopped pacing and turned around.

"You _think_?" he asked. "Are you sure there was a girl?"

"Look, I don't rememba every detail," Bird said quickly. "All I rememba is someone was talkin and then there was lots of laughin and then they left. I think it was the girl who was talkin."

"Bird, you don't undastand," Crutchie said desperately. "If my fatha found her last night, she would be dead right now. He woulda killed her. Strangled her. Slit her throat. Hell, he mighta found a gun and shot her. I _have_ to know if she's ok." The room was silent, all eyes on Crutchie now. They had never seen him like this before. He had felt this emotion many times before, this brotherly protectiveness, but never this strongly. He was desperate.

"Ok, Crutch," Bird said, nodding. "I'll go find out if she's ok, I swear. I'll go to the refuge soon as I pick up my brotha from the factory. I'll report back to Rova tonight. Same time, same place." Crutchie stood there, trying to take in what Bird said, but couldn't say anything in response. Soon Bird left and everyone got back to work but Crutchie stood there, frozen in fear.

The last time he was this afraid for Dollface was when they were twelve. It was their first day as newsies and their father attacked them. He remembered being so angry as she sent him to get help. As she sent him away while he groped her, attacked her. He had dropped his crutch all together and ran, his leg throbbing painfully the whole time, to Tibby's to get the older boys. He remembered bursting through the door, spotting Sneak sitting with Shoots and Kid Blink and shouting for help. He ran back to the alley, not able to find the words to explain the situation.

But now, he felt an entirely new kind of fear. His best friend. His sister. His only family and she could be dead. Because of him. A wave of guilt washed over him as he realized that if she had been killed, it would be his fault. He had sent the drunk to Brooklyn. Had he really been so selfish to even risk her life for his? He should have just taken the beating. He should have let his father cut him with the glass, even slice his throat, if it meant Dollface would still be safe.

"Kid!" Crutchie was drawn from his thoughts and looked up. There was a guard in the door.

"Mr. Snyder's real mad at you," he said. "Says you was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. Get goin!" Crutchie forced himself to move but his head wasn't there. He felt his body slowly walk over to Snyder's tray. He felt his arms move to pick it up. He felt the weight in his arms. He saw Rat pick up his crutch and hand it to him. He would have to wait almost twelve hours to find out if his sister was alive or not. He didn't think he could make it.

* * *

Crutchie couldn't find the energy to force down his dinner that night. He sat with the rest of the boys in the bunk room and merely sipped on his tin cup of water. Everyone was talking cheerfully but Crutchie couldn't pay attention. All he could do was sit and count down the hours until the lights went out and he could speak to Bird. He broke into a nervous sweat and pulled off his hot shirt. Rover had tried to reassure him that everything was ok, that if Dollface had in fact been killed, Snyder would have heard something about it. After all, he _had _been chasing her for nearly four years. If one of his top runaways was suddenly dead, he would probably be giddy. As horrible as it was, Crutchie knew Rover was right.

But Crutchie wouldn't be able to breath until he heard for sure if Dollface was ok. He tried to focus on the boys around him. All the older boys, Rover, William, Fingers, and Crutchie, sat off to the side and watched the younger boys play funny games. Dart became bored after one round and came to sit with them. The boys laughed as they watched the kids chasing each other and having fun but Crutchie hardly noticed.

"So what did Bird tell ya 'bout comin back tonight?" Rover asked Crutchie, trying to distract him slightly.

"He said he'd go to the boardin house when he picked up his brotha from the factory," Crutchie said, remembering the words he had been saying in his head over and over all day. "He said he would go to the boardin house and ask if Dollface was there. He was gonna ask if she was ok. Then he'll come back here, afta lights out. The first floor fire escape. He'll be there." Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Keys unlocking it. Everyone immediately stopped talking, laughing and running around.

The door opened and Snyder entered. The five boys jumped up from the floor and stood respectfully, looking away from him. He slowly walked in the room and looked around.

"There better not be playing in this room," he said sternly. "There better not be any laughing or smiling. There is no fun and games at this refuge. You were sent here because you can not obey the rules of the city. If I hear one more sound out of the room, you are all going without food for a week." With that said, he swiftly turned on his heel and left the room. Everyone moved again when the door closed, though they stopped the games and talked quietly. Suddenly there was a rapping on the window at the other end of the room, startling the boys nearby.

"Hey Rova! It's Bird!" a small boy cried out, pointing to the window. Crutchie followed Rover as they walked over to the window, confused as to why Bird had appeared hours earlier than originally planned. When they reached the window, they saw Bird waving happily at them.

"What the hell?" Rover said, once he had shoved open the window. "You's gonna get in trouble, the sun ain't even down yet."

"I know, but I couldn't come tonight," he explained briefly. "Don't worry, no one saw me. Just get out here and I'll explain."

"You fellas don't gotta come out here," Crutchie said to the others. "Just keep an eye on the little kids, make sure they don't make no more noise." Rover nodded as Crutchie joined Bird on the fire escape.

"Well? Is she ok?" he asked anxiously.

"She's fine," he said and Crutchie let out a breath, half laughing from relief. "She wasn't there when I went but everyone said she was fine. The strike's doin real good too." Crutchie, relieved Dollface was safe, was now eager to hear more about the strike.

"What are they doin?" Crutchie asked. Bird sat down on the fire escape and leaned up against the brick of the building. Crutchie did the same, having a feeling Bird would have a lot to say. Goosebumps went down his spine as his bare back pressed against the cool brick.

"Well like I said earlier today, they got all the boroughs to join," he said, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie. "Once they was sure about that, they decided to make signs and banners and stuff. They's gonna have a big meetin tomorrow wit Conlon and some of his boys to make a list of demands. Then they's gonna go storm the gates of their circulation center and the rest of the boroughs is gonna meet 'em there hopefully."

"What about Jack? Any news on him?"

"Actually yeah," Bird said rather optimistically. "Some of ya friends talked sense into him. He was gonna run off to some place. Mexico or-"

"Santa Fe," Crutchie said, rolling his eyes. "He's always wantin to go there."

"Yeah so they talked to him," he continued. "He said he was gonna go and talk to Pulitzer himself today. No one heard anythin back yet but he said he's goin. So that's somethin. Then at the rally tomorrow, Jack's gonna talk and everythin. They's gonna get everyone real mad but excited 'bout it all. Then they'll go outside of Pulitzer's office. They's thinkin he can't ignore that many kids."

"So Dollface is ok?" Crutchie reiterated. Bird nodded. "She's at the boardin house and she's safe. Boy that's a load off my mind. And Jack's back in the game too. He's goin to see Pulitzer!"

"It's great ain't it?" Bird said, standing up. "I'll go to the rally tomorrow and report back around the same time in the aftanoon."

"So why couldn't you come tonight?" he asked. "Why did ya hafta come now?" Bird's optimistic smile faded.

"I picked up my brotha from the factory," he said, frowning. "He got hurt. Something got caught on fire and his hand got burned. I gotta take care of him."

"That's horrible," Crutchie said, his heart sinking at the bad news. "Is he ok? How bad is it?"

"It don't look too bad but it's still nasty lookin," he explained. "I gotta watch it close to make sure it don't get infected. I told him I had to come here tonight but he didn't want me to leave him. He fell asleep so I came here fast as I could."

"You go get back to him before he wakes up," Crutchie said, sending Bird on his way.

"Hey, Bird," Crutchie shouted once Bird reached the ground, causing him to look up. "Thanks a lot."

"I know what you's feelin like," Bird said. "I felt the same way when I was in here. My brotha was only 'bout eight and then I went and got caught stealin some food for him. I was terrified. I tried to see him as much as I could. I snuck out a few nights. Nearly got caught a bunch. But I knew he wasn't gonna be safe unless I was wit him."

"I'm her brotha," Crutchie said, his heart once again aching as he thought of Dollface. "I gotta look afta her."

"It's our job," Bird said, understandingly.

"Hey Bird," Crutchie called after him. "I hope you ain't missin shifts at the factory for this."

"I am but strictly speakin this is more fun," he said, a smile on his face. "I feel like a reporta. Plus I can tell the newsies 'bout workin in factories. Just as bad, if not worse."

"Night, Bird," Crutchie said, watching him run out of sight. Crutchie breathed a huge sigh of relief. Dollface and his friends were safe. Jack was back as leader. The strike was getting attention. He smiled, stretching his back. He would sleep better knowing much more about the strike, even if it was on the hard floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**warning: this chapter is a little more... violent than the others. so proceed with caution**

* * *

Crutchie was too tired and happy to notice anything strange. It wasn't until he was already inside that he realized the room had gone dead silent. Standing right in front of the window, as if he had been waiting for him, was Snyder. Crutchie looked behind him and saw a guard maintaining a firm grip on Rover's arm.

"Hello, Andrew," Snyder said, far too gleefully. "Had a nice little outing, did we?"

"I went out for some fresh air," Crutchie lied quickly. "It was stuffy in here and I couldn't-" Snyder brought his cane down on Crutchie's head. He fell to the ground, completely disoriented.

"I heard you talking earlier you little brat," he said, spit flying from his mouth. "Just before I came in here earlier I heard you talking to that Rover boy. You said a boy named Bird was coming to the fire escape. Then just now you talked about the strike. You said Dollface was at the refuge and Jack at Pulitzer's office." Crutchie froze, realizing all the information Snyder had overheard. About the strike. About Jack. About Dollface.

"Well guess what kid?" he said so mockingly. "That's all I wanted to know in the first place. Looks like I'm going to Pulitzer's office." He punched Crutchie hard in the head, and he saw bright lights, the world spinning and nothing coming into focus. Crutchie's head felt like lead as he collapsed completely. The sounds around him were quickly fading.

"And I'll have to make a quick stop by the boardin house too," Crutchie heard Snyder's distant voice say. He felt a moment of pure panic just before he passed out.

Suddenly, Crutchie felt like he had run into a brick wall. He woke up with a start, gasping as his eyes jumped open. His face stung. Standing in front of him was Charlie, rubbing his hands together, and Bull stood behind him, a smirk on his face. Crutchie tried to move but found he couldn't. His arms were tied to the back of a chair. He looked around and once again found himself in the dark cellar that he had come to associate with fights.

"What do you want?" Crutchie asked bitingly.

"Snyda's lettin us go early," Charlie said happily. "We just gotta do one little job first and then we's free to go."

"A job? And what's that?" Crutchie asked, though he knew the answer. Charlie punched him in the jaw.

"That," he said with a shrug.

"Snyda also wants us to ask you some questions," Bull said, stepping forward.

"Course he does," Crutchie said, spitting out blood. "Wouldn't be a proper interrogation if there wasn't any questions, now would it?"

"Then again, he said you're not likely to answer them," Bull continued. "So he left it up to us as to how to get the answers from you."

"First question," Charlie said. "Who and where is Spot Conlon?" Though he hated Conlon, Crutchie would never rat on another newsie, never.

"He's a lowlife, that's who he is," Crutchie said. He prepared himself for a blow, either a kick or a punch, but it didn't come. Suddenly Charlie moved behind him and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back. Crutchie felt like his hair would rip from his scalp. Then Bull came over with a bucket of water and slowly poured it over Crutchie's face. Crutchie coughed and choked as water filled his mouth and nose. He could barely breath and tried to wriggle out of Charlie's grasp. Finally the water stopped and Charlie let go. Cruthie continued coughing and gasping for air.

"Who is this Conlon kid? Where is he?" Bull asked again.

"I don't know," Crutchie said, breathing heavily. "He moves around a lot. But he ain't no body to worry about."

"We'll decide that," Bull said, crossing his arms. "Next question. Who's this Bird kid?"

"Now that I really don't know," Crutchie said. "I'm new here, I don't know much." Charlie once again grabbed his head, pulling it back, as Bull took another bucket of water.

"I don't know who he is!" Crutchie shouted desperately, Bull holding the bucket over his head. "He's just an outside man! I don't know anything!"

"We highly doubt that," Bull said, pouring the water once again in his face. Knowing what was coming this time, Crutchie took a deep breath and tried to hold it as the water poured over his face. But Charlie saw this and wrenched his hair between his fingers, making Crutchie scream and choke on water. When Bull finished, Crutchie felt like passing out.

"It's alright though," Charlie said, stepping out of the way as Crutchie coughed up water. "Snyda's wit that kid, Rover. I'm sure _he'll _know much more about Bird than you." Crutchie's heart sank.

"Go tell Snyda to let Rover go," Crutchie said. "This is my battle to fight. No one else is gettin hurt cuz of me." Bull reached into his pocket, pulling out a match. He struck it on the wall and then handed it to Charlie, who was holding a fork.

"The thing is," he said, holding the fork in the orange flame, "it ain't really up to us to let Rover go or not. So eitha you's gonna tell us or he is."

"Ain't neitha of us is gonna tell," Crutchie said, wondering what Charlie was going to do with the fork.

"You think that now little newsboy," he said, blowing out the match as the flame came to his fingers, "But not in a minute you won't." Charlie came nearer with the fork and Crutchie realized what he was going to do. He kicked his legs frantically but Charlie dodged them. He then pressed the red hit prongs of the fork to Crutchie's bare chest. Crutchie screamed as his skin sizzled.

"You ready to tell us now?" Bull asked as Charlie took away the fork.

"There ain't nothin for me to tell," Crutchie said, his skin stinging. "Next question." Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Bull opened it and a guard stood there.

"The boss says to keep it quiet," he told them. "He doesn't want the whole refuge to hear it and wonder what's going on."

"Yessir," Bull nodded and the door closed again. Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Hope ya like the taste of snot," he said, tying it tightly around Crutchie's mouth. Bull took another match out and lit it, once again holding the fork under the flame.

"So another question you say," Charlie said pacing around. "Well we don't really need more information. Snyda said he only wanted to know 'bout Conlon and Bird. He left the rest up to us." This time Bull pressed the fork to his chest. Crutchie screamed again but the cloth around his mouth muffled the sound.

"I suppose we do got a few more questions," Charlie said, as Bull pressed down harder on his skin. Charlie snapped and Bull backed off.

"How's our friends the Delancey's doin?" Charlie asked. Crutchie widened his eyes in surprise, making Charlie laugh. "Yeah, we's real good pals wit 'em." Crutchie felt stupid. He should have known Bull and Charlie had picked up their bullying skills from the Delanceys.

"They was always talkin to us 'bout you dumb newsies," Bull said. "They hate you guys. You's always causin trouble for them two. And you don't even hafta work that hard. Ya just stand outside for a few hours and scream at people to buy papes."

"Although they do seem to like one of you newsies," Charlie said, a perverted smirk on his face. "That Dollface." Crutchie aimed a kick at him but he jumped out of the way.

"Oh that's right, she's ya sista, ain't she?" he said mockingly. "Boy, the Delanceys told us all 'bout her. Said she's not real smart. And that she's a loudmouth. And a real bitch." Crutchie kicked again and was able to connect with Charlie's knee. He responded by punching him in the mouth, busting open his lip.

"But they also said she's damn fine," Bull said and then let out a small moan that made Crutchie shake with anger. "She's small ain't she. But she's got a great ass, I heard. Boy, first thing I'm doin when I get out is hookin up with that. Bet she's a good fuck." Crutchie kicked again and his foot hit Bull right in the crotch. He collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain.

"You little shit," Charlie shouted, kicking Crutchie's bad leg. He let out a strangled cry as pain stabbed his shin. "You don't like that much, do ya?" Then he kicked him again, so hard it knocked the chair over sideways. Crutchie's shoulder and head smashed to the ground.

"Sure hope ya sista don't got no gimp," Charlie said, leaning down in his face. "Not that I wouldn't lay her anyway." Crutchie wrestled hard against his restraints but it was useless. Charlie then stomped down hard on his leg, breaking a bone for sure. Crutchie squeezed his eyes shut as tears escaped and cried out in pain.

"Come on, Bull," Charlie said, helping his friend off the ground. "Let's go tell Mr. Snyda we did a job well done." They laughed and left Crutchie alone, lying on the floor in agony.

* * *

A while after Bull and Charlie left, a guard came in. He cut the rope binding him to the chair and Crutchie collapsed over on his stomach. He reached up a shaky hand and pulled the cloth away from his mouth. He was exhausted and his whole body was in pain. He felt something light get tossed at him.

"Picked ya up a new shirt, kid," the guard said, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'm real sorry this is happening to ya." He quietly left the room again. Crutchie slowly gained the energy to sit up. He looked down at his chest, at the marks the fork had left. The skin was very raw where he had been burned. Crutchie was sure it would become infected. Then he looked down at his leg. Charlie had broken a bone in his shin. He could see it bent out more unusually than normal. Pain shot through his leg at every movement but he bit down on his lip.

Once he had slipped on the shirt he was given, he looked around for something he could use to temporarily fix his leg. He knew if he didn't do something, it would get much worse. But all that was in the room were two empty buckets, a chair, and some rope. Then Crutchie got an idea. He didn't dare stand up, he knew he couldn't do that without his crutch, so he crawled toward the chair. Then he picked it up by the back and threw it across the room. It broke into several pieces. Crutchie chose one of the broken legs of the chair and untied the cloth from around his neck. Then he moved to sit up against the wall. He scrunched up the collar of the shirt and leaned down to bite it, knowing how painful this would be.

Finally he slammed down his fist on his shin and popped the bone back into place, so it wasn't sticking out like it had been. Pain blinded him and he thought he would surely pass out. He bit down hard on the fabric that muffled his scream. Once the excruciating pain passed, he ripped the cloth into smaller strips. Then he placed the small piece of wood next to the broken part of his leg and tied it in place. It wasn't too comfortable and did nothing to stop the pain but at least it wouldn't get any worse.

Now Crutchie just had to sit and wait for something to happen. So he sat. And sat. And sat until finally he laid down and went to sleep, deciding he might as well get some rest. He knew whatever was to come wouldn't be good.

* * *

**Yeah... like I said, it's a lot worse than the other chapters. but I promise, poor Crutchie's abuse is coming to an end soon. But now we know why Snyder goes to Pulitzer's office and the boarding house in my other story, right? ... I'm sorry Crutchie, baby... **


	8. Chapter 8

Crutchie slowly roused from his restless sleep. Two pairs of arms held him up as he was dragged along a hallway. His eyelids were heavy and refused to open. He became more aware as they turned down a hall and then came to a stop. He heard keys rattling and then a door being opened. He braced himself, expecting to be thrown violently inside but was surprised when he was carefully lowered to the ground. Footsteps walked away, a door closed, and then the room erupted in noise. Crutchie forced himself to open his eyes. Rat was crouched next to him, a concerned look on his face, with other boys standing behind him, all looking terrified.

"What the hell happened to you?" Rat asked.

"Just spendin time with my good pals Bull and Charlie," Crutchie said, trying to ease the tension. But Rat didn't smile.

"Let's get you in bed," Rat said, helping Crutchie up and over to an empty bed. Though Crutchie wished he could fall asleep, his head was full of questions.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Just about time for dinna," Rat said, leaning up against the bed. Crutchie had spent the whole night and day in that cellar. An entire day had passed while he had been beaten and unconscious.

"Where's Rover?" he asked, suddenly remembering that Synder had personally dealt with him.

"Snyda sure did a numba on him," Rat said, frowning. "But it's nothin compared to what's happened you the past couple of days."

"What about Bird?" Crutchie asked anxiously. "They tried to get me to tell about-"

"Bird's ok," Rat said, calmly. "You and Rover is good pals not to rat out Bird or nothin. We got word to him not to come back though. He had real important information 'bout the strike so he sent his little brotha here round lunch." Crutchie then remembered Bird mentioning something about a rally earlier that morning. Hopefully it had gone over well.

"What'd he say?" Crutchie asked, his broken leg throbbing painfully. He wanted to keep his mind off his painful body and to focus on the strike.

"It ain't good," Rat said, slowly. "You sure you want to hear this?" Crutchie nodded as pain shot through his leg again. Rat let out a heavy sigh before continuing.

"Everyone showed up to the rally this morning. The circulation center was packed, almost every borough was there. And so was Conlon, that was the important thing. Then Jack started talkin 'bout how they all had to stick togetha and it seemed to be going ok but…" Rat trailed off.

"Keep going," Crutchie said.

"Then Jack tried to get them all to quit the strike and come back to work," Rat said, rather downcast. "Said if they didn't come back now they wasn't eva gonna be taken seriously again. That's when they all found out he's been workin for Pulitzer. He and Conlon got in a fight and then Jack ran off. Everyone left after that." Crutchie's heart sank. He couldn't believe Jack, of all people, would start working for Pulitzer. Now that Jack had officially switched sides in the strike, it was over. There was no way they would win. Rat seemed to realize this too and said nothing more.

"How was his hand?" Crutchie asked out of nowhere. Rat looked up.

"What?" he said confused.

"Bird's brotha. Bird said he hurt his hand. How was his hand?" Crutchie asked.

"Didn't notice it much," Rat said shrugging. "I think it was wrapped up maybe." Crutchie nodded but said nothing more. After a while, Rat walked away and left Crutchie alone with his thoughts.

Crutchie didn't know what to think. If Jack Kelly was telling everyone to quit, then the strike would go nowhere. Even if no one listened to him, Pulitzer would never give into the strike's requests. Pulitzer had won Jack, that was all he wanted. He might even have his papers print an article about Jack, the newsie leader, switching sides. Then there was the fact that Jack was one of the few people with the charisma needed to lead a crowd the size of the newsies of New York. Davey might be able to do it with the help of Conlon, Racetrack, and their other friends but they didn't have the same effect on people the way Jack did. The strike was doomed.

Suddenly anger washed over Crutchie as he became furious with Jack for betraying the newsies, and he slammed his fists down on the mattress. How could Jack have left them like that? Was he really so desperate that he would accept Pulitzer's bribes? Maybe getting to Santa Fe was far more important to him than winning the strike, which made everything he said a lie. Everything he said to motivate his friends into starting the strike was a lie. He didn't care about standing up to Pulitzer and the Delanceys and Hearst. He was just in it for himself.

But something just didn't seem right about that to Crutchie. As mad as he was with Jack, he knew deep down that none of that was true. He knew Jack cared about the newsies more than anything. Crutchie knew Jack wouldn't abandon them unless it was for a good reason. Maybe Pulitzer was blackmailing Jack. But then why wouldn't he have told the others? Surely they would have understood. Crutchie was becoming more frustrated with being in the refuge instead of outside with his friends. He wish he knew what was going on.

Crutchie tried to push the strike from his head and attempted to fall asleep but found he couldn't. He instinctively looked for his crutch but realized it wasn't there. He would have to settle for sitting in bed and watching the boys around him. The boys in Rat's room were slightly older than the boys in the room Crutchie had been in before. Instead of running around and playing games, they mostly sat around, wrestling or telling jokes. Crutchie was suddenly amazed at the spirit of these boys. In spite of being in the refuge, they were still able to laugh and smile. In spite of their malnourished bodies, they were still able to rough house like young boys should. Crutchie told himself to always remember their bright spirits whenever things got tough.

Their meager dinner of cold vegetable soup, stale bread, and murky looking water arrived but Crutchie didn't care how it tasted. He hadn't eaten in over a day and quickly ate every last bite. As he drained his water, he looked around at the rest of the boys still eating and wished there had been more food. Almost as if he sensed this, Rat silently handed Crutchie his piece of bread.

"Rat, you don't hafta," Crutchie protested, pushing away Rat's outstretched hand.

"No, you take it," he insisted. "You needs it more than me. You gotta get your energy back up." Knowing this was true, Crutchie humbly accepted the piece of bread and slowly ate it, trying to savor each bite.

"Rat, how long have you been in here?" Crutchie asked him once he had finished the bread.

"Since I was ten," he said, scraping his empty bowl for any remaining food. "It'll be seven years in about a month."

"What did you do?" Crutchie asked, shocked to hear he had been there so long.

"Stole some food for my family," he said, setting the bowl on the floor. "Then I got involved into a few street fights for extra money. A policeman was at a fight once when he recognized me from stealin' some tomatoes the day before. Arrested me for theft and illegal fightin."

"That's horrible," Crutchie said. "Did they arrest the otha fighters?" Rat shook his head and sipped his water.

"The ring of fights is a very… shifty place," Rat said carefully. "Most people don't know 'bout it. I only found out cuz I got lost one night. But the fightas pay off the police and let 'em watch for free if they don't arrest 'em."

"Now I see why Jack wants to leave here," Crutchie mumbled to himself.

"Huh?" Rat said, looking up.

"Jack's always talkin' 'bout leavin' and goin' to Santa Fe," he explained. "Says he hates it here. He wants space and fresh air. I usta like it here though. There's neva a borin' day in New York. Always interestin' people walkin' around. Always somethin' to do. But now that I seen the refuge and how corrupt the police is and how they treat us…"

"Bet Santa Fe looks real swell, don't it?" Rat said, completing Crutchie's thought. Crutchie nodded and they sat in silence for another few minutes.

"But wait, they couldn't a kept you here for seven years just for fights and stealin' stuff," Crutchie said, breaking the silence. "That's a bit harsh."

"Well I mighta gotten some time added on," Rat said, trying to hide a sly smile from his face. "I was about a month from gettin outta here when Snyda came down hard on some random kid. I don't even remember what it was about. All I know is I kinda sorta jumped Snyda to protect the kid." Crutchie laughed.

"You _jumped_ Snyda?" he repeated.

"And let's just say that wasn't the first time eitha," he said, smiling as he drank his water again. "Probably got an extra three years cuz of it all. But then my pop came to visit once. Said I had to behave real well from now on. My ma's been sick and he's worried 'bout her. Wants me to get outta here so I can get back to work and get money for a docta. So I stopped fightin. I think I got anotha few months and then I'm done."

"Is your ma still stick?" Crutchie asked. Rat shook his head sadly.

"She… she died," he said, looking away from Crutchie. "But I still gotta get outta here. Gotta help my dad take care of the resta the family."

"I'm sorry, Rat," Crutchie said, feeling like he had asked too many questions. "My ma died too. When I was born. I didn't know her but I know she was nice. I know that much."

"If she was anything like you, I'm sure all she cared about was otha people," Rat said, a small smile on his face. "I'm sure she put everyone else first, just like you."

Crutchie felt better than he had in days just by talking to Rat. It was something about having a normal conversation that didn't have anything to do with the strike or Crutchie's injuries. A few minutes later, Rat and Crutchie were interrupted by a boy asking Crutchie to arm wrestle. The boy looked to be a year or so younger than Crutchie and clearly thought that because he had a gimp leg that he would lose. Crutchie gladly accepted the boy's challenge. The room laughed when Crutchie slammed the boy's arm down to the floor with hardly a struggle. What Crutchie lacked in leg muscle, he made up for in arm muscle. Years of walking around on his crutch and pulling himself up onto things that he couldn't climb using his legs had earned him a muscular upper body. They spent the rest of the night arm wrestling Crutchie, seeing if there was anyone who could beat him. Although Rat and Crutchie struggled for a few minutes, Crutchie eventually came out as the winner. Their cheers were cut short when the lights suddenly turned off.

Rat let Crutchie have his bed as he settled to take the floor next to him. Crutchie's good mood began to fade, though, as he lay in bed in a dark and silent rooms. Thoughts of the strike came back to him. No longer having any distractions, the pain in his broken leg became more noticeable. The burns on his chest stung painfully. He tried to push the negative thoughts from his head but failed. All he could think of was his broken leg and the abandoned strike. Then he remembered the boys earlier that night. He remembered their free spirits as they wrestled and laughed. And just like that, Crutchie smiled and drifted off to sleep.

Then Crutchie found himself slowly waking up to a tapping noise. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around the room for the source of the sound. It was coming from the window. He clumsily stood up from the bed, without his crutch, and hopped to the window. In the dim light of a barely risen sun, he could see Bird's smiling face. Crutchie quickly opened the window.

"What are you doin' here?" he whispered, trying not wake the others. "If Snyda catches you-"

"It don't matta if he does cuz somethin big is happenin," he said excitedly, his loud voice echoing through the room. Crutchie clapped his hand over his mouth and looked around the room. He heard a few boys turn over or mumble in their sleep but it seemed no one had woken up. Then he saw a groggy Rat sit up from the floor.

"What's goin on?" he asked confused. "Crutchie, whatchu doin?"

"Nothin, Rat. Just go back to-"

"It's about the strike," Bird blurted out, Rat realizing Bird was there.

"Bird, what are you doin' here? You ain't supposed to be here," Rat said worriedly, quickly joining them at the window.

"It don't matta anymore," he said, grinning broadly. "The strike is back. And it's makin it's final blow."

"What?" Crutchie said. "But I thought your brotha told us-"

"Yeah he did, but the tables is turnin," Bird said, gesturing for them to climb out onto the fire escape. Once they were outside, they could talk more freely.

"Kelly was blackmailed into workin for Pulitzer," Bird said, confirming Crutchie's thoughts. "It was eitha work for him or go to the refuge and the boardin house would get shut down. That's why he was tellin' everyone to quit. But then he decided he couldn't stand workin' for Pulitzer and teamed up with one of _The Sun's_ writers."

"Katherine!" Crutchie said excitedly. He knew he liked her.

"Yeah, that's the one," Bird said. "She wrote this article all about the horrible conditions all the kids in New York work in and how important the strike is not just cuz it can help improve things but cuz its kids finally takin' a stand. They spent all night makin' copies of it on one of Pulitzer's old presses. Can you believe that! On Pulitzer's own press!"

"Then about fifteen minutes ago I got woken up by Conlon," he continued. "I told him where I was stayin' in case anything else with the strike happened. He told me they was all gatherin' in about thirty minutes. We's gonna help 'em make more papes and to pass 'em out in the mornin! The entire world's gonna know about this strike!"

"Maybe not the whole world but all of New York sure will," Rat said happily.

"Does this mean we might win?" Crutchie asked Bird.

"From what Conlon told me 'bout what's in the article, there ain't no way we can be ignored," he said. "Once we's all done passin' out the papes, we's gonna meet in the square outside Pulitzer's office. Everyone's gonna be there, not just newsies. Everyone who reads the article. Every parent of every kid that hasta sell papes or work in factories. I'm gonna be there too, with my brotha on my shoulders. There ain't no way we can lose."

They were suddenly hit with sunlight and became aware of the rising sun. The guards would be coming to wake them up any moment now. Rat and Crutchie watched as Bird safely ran out of the refuge and out of sight. They climbed back in, knowing that they were about to face another day of being abused. But nothing could extinguish the fire within them. They both knew the strike would be over soon.


End file.
